The Reunion
by doyoulikepinnacaladas
Summary: Lyra and Will must face the truth. Is hanging on to their shattered memory something they should do? Or is it best if they leave their love behind forever?


She walked desolately. It had been a year, and whenever she thought she could move on, her love for Will sprang up again. She had walked past the bench so many times before, but had not dared to sit on it. Too many memories. She dragged her feet. What would happen? Would she feel his presence? Would he even be there in his world? Probably not. He had probably moved on. He had probably forgotten all about her.

Will walked to the bench. He stared at it a long time before actually sitting down. He didn't want to sit down. Flashes of his adventures with Lyra flashed though his mind. He didn't know why he left her. And the knife was gone, so there was no turning back. But oh, how he wanted to. He would take a thousand terrible deaths if it meant he could be with her. He missed her dearly.

At the same moment, they sat down. And then it happened. They saw beside them a ghostly outline of each other, but a year older. For a second they just stared at eachother, and then they both attempted a clumsy embrace, but the ghostly figures seemed untouchable.

Terrified of doing anything to make the outline go away, Lyra scooted back. Then, after what seemed like years, she finally mangaed to get a word out of her dry throat. "Will?"

It had spoken to him. The shadow, or ghost, whatever it was. It looked incredibly like Lyra, and it had just said his name. Was she dead? Is this why he was seeing her? She had filled out since he last saw her, she looked more like a woman than the wild girl he had fallen so in love with. Her hair was neatly combed-a rare occurance when he...when they had spent time together. It was longer too. God she was more beautiful than he remembered. But it was her eyes. Her eyes told him it was still Lyra, _his_ Lyra. He finally uttered a sentance. "Lyra, is that you? Are you...here....really?"

It **was **Will. She couldn't believe it. He looked so **differnent** than she remembered him. But it was his eyes. He was Will, _her _Will. "Yes, it's me."

"I can't believe it. How-what?"

"I don't get it either, but you're here, I can't believe I get to talk to you again. It's been so long. I didn't know if you'd be at the bench, I mean, I thought you might have moved on." Damnit WHY did she have to stumble over her words? What was happening to her? Why did she feel as if her world that she'd been trying to piece together for a year had suddenly fallen apart? She needed to use glue next time.

"I thought you would too. I didn't think you'd remember that we promised to be here."

"Of course I would remember. I love you Will."

"I love you too."

An akward silence fell over them. They just sat there. Lyra alternating between staring at her hands or feet and glancing up into his eyes. Oh, his eyes. And Will sat there, staring at her, his gaze never faltered.

"I wish I could kiss you again."

It was so sudden, so blunt, Lyra almost fell off the bench. The only reason she didn't faint was because she was terrified that leaving the bench would mean Will would go away.

"I wish you were here."

"So do I, and believe me, I've thought about it many times, but the knife's been destroyed. Sometimes I wish I hadn't done it."

"You had to" she whispered. She'd had the same thought, many times. But there was no use lingering over the what if's. What if she had gone with him. What if he'd come with her. What if they had been born in the same world. What if this had never happened, and she'd never met him. It would be so much easier.

"What's wrong?" Will asked.

"What's wrong?!" Lyra burst. "What's wrong is I love you, Will. And if you're not completely lying to me, you love me too. Do you know how much it hurts to have to leave you? How much it hurts to think about the what ifs in everything? I hate it. I love you, but I hate what fate has done to me, to us." Tears were pouring down her cheeks now. She hadn't cried in a year.

"I know what you mean. I've been feeling the same thing."

"I don't think this is a good idea Will."

"What?"

"I don't think we should meet here anymore. If this is what happens. What we had, was amazing. I will never forget it. But what we HAVE is the shattered remains of a first love. And reopening the wound and pouring salt in it isn't helping either of us."

"You're right. You were always right, but for once I wish you weren't."

"I wish I wasn't either, believe me. But we both need to move on, to go. I have to learn how to smile again. I have to piece my life back together and this time remember to use glue."

"What?"

"Don't ask." They laughed then. They shared their last laugh, and they cried together for the last time. There was no goodbye kiss. They both just got up. And the ghostly apparitions dissapeared. They both walked away, and never came back to the bench again.

She still thought about him upon occasion. But there wasn't much time for that anymore. She had immersed herself in her studies, and managed to be the first woman to legally enter the Retiring Room, rather than sneaking in as she'd done as a child so many years ago. And she lead most of the discussions with her fellow scholars. She even recruited a few more females with same goal as hers. She eventually married a scholar and they had a little girl that liked to explore and climb the rooftops and never combed her hair. It almost reminded Lyra of someone she once knew...

And he moved on. He found someone else to spend his life with, though she would never replace Lyra in his heart. She didn't know about Lyra and he wasn't going to tell her, no use telling her she'd always be number two for him. They had a son who had a hunger for adventure that was almost like someone Will used to know... He never wanted to abandon them. He found his mother, and she seemed to be perfectly sane again. She lived with Will and his wife until she died at a very, very, old and happy age.

Not all stories end up pefectly, but they always have a happy ending.


End file.
